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[Page 6]
[Various drawings with the titles "Le Petit rouge la bas", "Grandmere et son fagot" and "Voila avec ma brouette"]
his pretty little wife and the boy Asticot. All three tamoshantered and corduroyed bohemians playing mandolins (not a patch on yours) in the city square. They sell leaflets with words of the latest vaudeville "hits" to a large and interesting crowd. This crowd doesn't gape and stare but enjoys itself singing the choruses. The temptation was too great for me. I jumped on to the platform with my bones and sang "Hiens Pompoule to a vigorous accompaniment. You should have heard the applause, French girls, soldiers, old ladies, civilians, cab drivers. I could almost see you laughing as I danced round making bloomers of my engineering riding breeches. Australians here have a great time and adapt themselves to the hitherto unknown freedom with an abandon that startles their "dopy" English brothers.
One finds out here the freedom vaunted of in the old Dart is all B.S.
Thank God the doleful, dirge of wowsers Sunday music does not infest this most beautiful of countrys. Sunshine as mellow as Brisbane's shines day after day on La Belle France. The landscape is indescribably rich. "All the colors of their vegetable soup" (one of the Popsy Wop's). The people! You can't imagine how good I find them.